


the rest of our lives

by Klaus69Xx



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Angel Sherlock, Dark, Demon John, Eventual Happy Ending, Heaven and Hell, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Reichenbach, sherlock died on the rooftop (or respectivetly on the pavement), suicide but not in a the character dies and isn´t part of the story anymore kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaus69Xx/pseuds/Klaus69Xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After death their story just begins.</p><p>On hiatus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the show or any of these characters, they belong to BBC, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat (and Conan Doyle). I'm only doing this for my own excitement (and yours of course dear reader).

He waited. Engulfed in the shadows. Behind him someone shifted restlessly and he could just suppress a hissing. Hell knew how he hated to work with newbie’s but he was still too much one himself to work on his own. Yet he couldn’t wait for his first solo mission. Working as a team was something his old self had done.

Before he could further follow the path of his dark thoughts a faint scream was heard signalling that the first party was in the building and his should follow. A smile crept on his face, this was one of the few times were he still enjoyed himself. Smoothly he stepped out of his hiding and lead the all too eager fresh meat, cause that was all they were in this game, inside through the back entrance.

As it was part of the plan the few humans and their holy protectors were concentrated on fighting what was before them. Abalm and Glan were good but against four angels (even if they were weak) they would lose the battle soon especially as it looked like some of the pathetic humans tried to help.

He stepped out of the way, letting the younger demons pass who throw themselves all too eagerly in the fight. He watched as they attacked with their claws or weapons, their tails aggressively swishing behind them.

The biggest guy of his group whose name he remembered started with T or something tried to impale a blonde human girl with his rather big and pointy horns only shitty for him that she sprung elegantly out of the way and brought her glowing sword down, the idiot was immediately dead. Not that it really bothered him, the dumb ones had to be sorted out but what struck a nerve was that the girl had clearly military training and as he looked over to the others he saw that she wasn’t the only one. Shit! He had heard some stories of angels training humans to fight with them, of course he had never believed them, but here he was and the easy “kill the guardian angels and their protégés job” turned into a problem.

Angrily he whipped out his two guns and joined the battle. Accurately he shot one of the angels in the back who had cornered Abalm even if someone bumped into him in the exact moment. In a swift movement he pulled the inexperienced and stumbling demon away and kicked his opponent hard in the chest. The day his leg had hurt where long gone. Sure that he had broken the human some rips he turned to search for his next victim only to have to move away from the sword of the blonde girl. He hissed at here showing his sharp teeth and she effectively flinched away giving him time to aim his gun at her.

He savoured the short moment when her eyes went wide as she saw the end of her short life coming but before he could pull the trigger a shock wave throw him of his feet and a bright light filled the room.

When he came back to consciousness he was pretty sure just a short time had passed since the angels and the humans had made their hasty escape. He walked over to Glan who was brushing dust from his clothes. He could see Abalm scrambling out of the wreckage of the wall he had hit while the other demons were mostly out cold, some were groaning and some he presumed were even dead. He turned to the older demon.

“Any signs of what exactly happened?”

“Someone teleported them out, someone powerful”, was the short answer through barred teeth.

Glan was everything then amused, as was he himself. They failed, they weren’t quick enough, they couldn’t prevent this.

“Is there anything we can do?” he asked hopefully.

“We? No, that we have to pass on to the base” answered him Abalm, who was finally free, while making himself ready to leave.

He quickly threw a questioning look to the mostly still out-cold newbie’s but Abalm just laughed.

“They have to find their own way home; life is not that easy Joetun!”

With these words he was gone in a dark cloud and Glan silently followed.

Joetun... this name still felt strange after all this years. But John was his name in his old life and that had ended when he had put a gun against his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what do you think so far? feedback in any way would be highly appreciated (also typos), cause this is my first uploaded story (so excited!)  
> in the next chapter you will get some angel Sherlock yay


	2. Chapter 2

Mild light illuminated an ancient library showing the over floors stretching bookshelves. In a corner in a rather unusual chair sat a man with extraordinary cheekbones alone, totally lost in his book.  
Sherlock chuckled about another wrongheaded paragraph, softly rearranged his wings and spoke up, “John you have to see this, his theory about the connection of clothing manufacture and the alpha helix is my new low-point!”  
One, two, three seconds went by before he peered up and realised his mistake, with a sharp inhale he looked franticly around but thankfully he was alone, but that was the problem right? Especially in these peaceful moments where his brain couldn’t quite catch up, he thought bitterly.

He tried to concentrate himself on his book once more, turned the pages to find a good starting point, something that could catch his attention again, but sudden loud noises from the sickbay made his efforts pointless. In seconds Sherlock was on his feet and on his way there. After mere three days in this castle that was his groups new headquarter he knew every shortcut and was in no seconds there.

He burst into a chaotic scene with the floor already slippery from blood. Most of the humans but also two of the angels were wounded; many of them had already collapsed on the ground. But Sherlock only registered this in the back of his mind his real concentration lay in the search of a blonde head, what became fairly difficult in a room that was slowly filling with nurses and doctors who started to participate in the chaos. When he finally spotted Natalia he rushed to her side, brushing not all too gently past those who stood in his way to take in her trembling form. Physically she seemed fine and the medical angels left her out; they had a sense for injuries.  
He shortly considered giving her the comfort she obviously needed but stopped before he could lay his hand on her shoulder instead he coughed.

Nat focused her eyes slowly on Sherlock, her breathing still too quick and her hands trembling so much her beloved sword slipped out of her fingers without her noticing it until it hid the floor with a loud thud, making both of them flinch. Nevertheless she tried a smile at the strange angel who had developed a liking to her. She still didn’t understand why her, but it must have something to do with a resemblance to a certain “Jawn” or John.  
His look was penetrating as always but this time she thought she saw something akin to worry, regardless his voice was as controlled as always, “What happened?”

“Can’t you imagine??” She sucked in a shaky breath and opened her mouth to apologize for her harsh words but was naturally interrupted.

“Your mission clearly failed, the demons somehow knew you had a meeting in the warehouse. That it were demons is obvious if you look at the clear brutality and the resulting wounds, which also show that the number of inexperienced fighters on their side was high. But because of the death of Elea, Jake and Phil, who were all good fighters, it must have been a well-conceived ambush. Yazel was the one who had gotten your distress signal and teleported you out therefore it looks like we all have to endure our ‘great saviour’ for now. Does my imagination suffice?”

She blinked and then laughed loudly; she had forgotten how different Sherlock was. She refrained from going into certain aspects as his dislike for Yazel and simply said, “Thank you.”  
“Why?” he asked, is brows furrowed.  
“For distracting me and keeping me from a possible panic attack or something like that of course. It’s always amazing when you do your thing.” Again she smiled and Sherlock couldn’t help but to smile back. An especially pained cry brought them back to reality and the situation at hand. Sherlock watched as Nat was in no minute beside her wounded friend who had let out the shout. There was a blackness stretching up his leg, the origin a nasty wound Sherlock knew all too well.

He turned away and with assessing eyes he searched for the other angels of his taskforce and caught the motion of one of them to the door. Silently they both walked all the way to the conference room where the rest was already gathered. With slight distaste Sherlock noted that Yazel had taken the position at the head of the table and their actual leader stood awkwardly at the side. In all fairness him he couldn’t like too but that didn’t made Yazel any better.  
In his usual spot in the corner of the room he waited till Yazel had silenced the hushed conversations and gotten over what had happened. Blah blah blah demon ambush blah blah saving in the last minute and finally they were finished with the boring part and came to what the consequences would be and how that could have happened.

“Maybe we have a spy amidst us!” quaked one of the angels whose name Sherlock would never bother to learn, “dear Lord they know everything!!”  
“That can’t be! We have one of the highest security standards and our communication protocol is waterproof!”  
At this level of incompetency Sherlock decided to interrupt, “So you wouldn’t say that the information leak arose from Zamarel defecting to the demon side and selling our encoding?”  
Lots of hushed “Zamarel had this info?” and many open mouths were the result of Sherlock’s statement which he observed with a slight smile. With a brighter smile he took Yazel’s resentful stare in.  
“As I see you haven’t changed Sherlock.”  
“You know how I would love to return that statement but from me it wouldn’t be a compliment.”

To his satisfaction Yazel’s nostrils flared and his wings puffed. After moments of thick tension and an attempted starring contest ticked by Yazel took the word again, ignoring Sherlock totally. “Sadly it looks like Zamarel was in possession of the encoding information and sold them alongside the others. Thus we have to change it“. A disgruntled murmur from the angel in charge for that problem was heard from the left but the higher-ranking angel just went on. “Furthermore the demons will now be able to pierce the information about “The Project” together. We have to take the next step earlier than anticipated.”  
“What? But we aren’t ready!” interrupted the real project leader.

The following discussion Sherlock blanked out, he didn’t care about “The Project” for him it was pointless and wrongheaded. Plus he would get soon enough in contact with the new plan since he was the official tactician and it was his job to save what was left to save of all the great plans important people had thrown together. A rather hopeless and boring way to spend his afterlife.

But it wasn’t like it hadn’t any benefits as Sherlock had to admit whilst he sneaked out of the conference room (to escape the combined stupidity) and opened the next door on the corridor to a balcony. He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face; it had been quite some time since he had last stretched his wings. When he took off, giving his body and mind over to the wind, his last thought was that it had also been a long time since he visited Molly.


	3. Chapter 3

_Retrospect_

_Laughter. Snippets of a conversation. Honks of cars. The chiming of a bell._

_All of it came like waves crushing through the open window, drowning him, pulling him under, filling his brain, his body. It got louder and louder. Another honk, an impatient scream for a taxi, hitting him, pushing the previous noise away and in the following moment receding too for the next wave._

_A breath in, pause, a breath out, pause. Even though a storm was raging in his head his breathing was calm, collected. At an especially high-pitched laughter that was rushing through his entire mind he didn’t even flinch. No, he was taking it in, all of it. Tried to drown himself in it, willing his mind to wade deeper into the all consuming sea._

_Everything to keep himself from thinking about the gun in his hand. But life was a bitch as he had learned long ago and a distant blare of sirens disrupted him rather painfully. It was time. All hope was lost, it didn’t matter anymore._

_One last deep inhale. He gripped the pistol tighter, a L9A1, smiled fondly at the memories and shot himself in the head._

 

The moment he heard the all too happy “Jooohn!” from down the corridor he knew there was no escape. Not when the look on Moriarty’s face was anything to go by. It was his overly excited one that was mostly seen when he was, for example, plotting a murder.

John cringed because this wasn’t how he had envisioned his day off.

“How is it going Johnny boy?” chimed the other demon, throwing his arm over John’s shoulder when he had reached him.

“Jim I’m not in the mood so piss off.” He wasn’t entirely ready to give up his free time.

He tried to get rid of the hand latching onto him but it looked like Jim was determined to drive him into his second suicide.

“OUCH. That almost hurt my feelings.” John just snorted at that.”And to think I was ready to invite you to tea. You know the good stuff, not what they try to sell you as tea down here.”

The demons starred at each other for a short moment but damn it John really couldn’t say no to that. While they were walking to Moriarty’s quarters the infamous demon was silently humming and tapping away on his phone. What he was doing or how he even had reception was beyond John but it was like with the tea, he didn’t ask questions.

Jim was right, it was good. Even better than what he normally used to drink in his first live and he let out an appreciative sigh letting himself slide deeper into the cushioning of the armchair. Moriarty really knew how to live comfortably if you ignored his strange taste for Glee posters.

“I heard the mission was a flop?” Moriarty broke the pleasant silence, starring expectantly at John.

“Yes.”

“Yes and...? I wanna know all the dirty details, you know me John!”

After a short starring contest and a snarl he gave in. Refusing Moriarty would just lead in him being a pain in the neck.

“Sooo trained humans are a thing know? That changes a lot.”

“A lot? I don’t think so, I mean when the angels invented that super bomb that threw you back in time everyone said the same or when we trained mini dragons. Plus the kids were inexperienced, never had seen a real battle, if we take quick actions there won’t even be time for a problem to develop out of these stupid children.”

“Hm...” Jim said, looking deep in thoughts while taking a sip of his tea. “You know I liked the mini dragons.”

Before they could get deeper into _that_ subject thankfully they were interrupted. An especially bulky demon John had seen several times came in without knocking and a gun in his hand. John instantly tensed but relaxed as he saw that with the other hand the demon was dragging an unconscious figure in.

“Sir, you said you wanted to take care of this immediately.”

“Ah yes! John this is Ohsneb, my new right man. You know until Moran finally dies,” he said with a theatrical sigh, “who would have thought he would live that long! Anyway John, that reminds me again if you ever want to hop onto the fun train I always have a post free for you...”

John cut that off right away.

“Thank you but no thanks for your, is it already the tenth offer? Doesn’t matter I have enough fun as it is with failing missions and humans who run wild,” he said with his mouth set in a hard line but with a glint in his eyes.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your humour!” Jim smiled and when a grown was heard from the carpet he turned to Ohsneb still smiling. John took this as his signal to go. With a sharp nod to the bulky demon he left and went straight to the trainings field.

* * *

 After several hours of pleasing exercise John was ready to grab some food and retread to his living quarters but Glan beckoned him over as soon as he saw him at the impossibly full canteen. John cursed not for the first time the fact that he was his superior and had apparently super eyes.

“By the pants of Lucifer! I just got out of the debriefing you lucky bastard.” Glan started before he even had the chance to sit down.

“It isn’t like I would have a problem with spending my time in stupid briefings if I at least had my own missions,” John made the effort to point out to but that was wasted energy as Glan was in one of his moods and just went on.

“They all are running wild because of these monkeys. I think they want to send this up to the top. Maybe even file a request to get their own human team as if we need to imitate these over grown sparrows!”

His arms were flailing widely to emphasize his point but he ended up knocking the food of a by-passing demon over.

“I know what you mean. Jim was also interested in the incident.” John said between bites using the moment when Glan was too busy to snarl at the inferior demon to talk.

This earned him full attention and silence. Shortly.

“Joetun I never understood how that ‘friendship’ of yours worked... on the one hand it’s Moriarty who could even scare Lucifer and on the other hand after all I heard...”

“What did you hear?” John already regretted to have said anything at all; he should have just endured the meal. But now it sounded a lot like Glan was about to raise a subject which he better should leave untouched. John was fully aware that he was raising his tail threateningly.

Glan gulped but went on nevertheless under John’s stare. “I... It.. Wasn’t it his fault what well... ‘happened’ to your friend?”

John’s barely existing need for any sort of company was over and he left without a word.

(To not punch his superior, he had done that already once too often.)

* * *

 It was freezing and John hated every minute of this stupid “mission” he had to go on.

_Oh Joetun, we need someone who can fill in. Everyone else is busy, at the infirmary or unsuitable. Please Joetun you have the experience to be of actual help at this vital mission._

Vital his ass. While the others were probably doing something that was of actual importance, he was standing around in the countryside and on “lookout” as the rest of the unfortunate demons who were also the right mix of good enough and unimportant. For what he should look out was a mystery to him, they were miles from every sort of civilization and he wasn’t even sure in which country they were... The only thing noteworthy and their reason to be here was the shack of a church behind him.

At least if he went right about it he could get out of this mission with some useful connections to some high-ranking demons. He had let out a silent whistle when he saw with who he was working with, people he had only heard off in whispers in the barracks. Of course before he saw anything or anyone related to the mission he had to sign a non-disclosure agreement and afterwards he understood why.

Some whooshing was heard and John turned to see a red glow radiate from the holly church of Chuck or whatever.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to look in the nightly dessert only illuminated by the stars. Really romantic. Something caught his eye, a bright comet it must be... and while he was still thinking that (and maybe a bit about how cliché it was) the thing crashed in the church and set the whole building on fire, well actually black fire but John didn’t think that really mattered not when most of their top management was just being obliterated.

He moved forward like the rest of the surrounding demons but the fire burned all consuming. John starred at the now quickly dying flames and knew there wasn’t anything he could do; his medical training didn’t include bringing people back from the dead. He gulped and felt how his shoulders slumped.

At the very least there would be new posts to be filled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> put in some references ;)


	4. Chapter 4

There was this short moment when Sherlock let himself fall, this moment before he opened his wings, where his heart stopped. Only to beat again when he pushed himself up in the sky.

That was his life. Pleasure and pain were inseparable.

As when he was taking the drugs to escape the boredom, the disappointed stares and most of all the emptiness just for a short moment until it all came crashing down on him even harder.

The cases were another great example. The perfect substitute for drugs until you lay alone in the dark and couldn’t get the voices out of your head.

_"He sounded so ... soft. “_

And as much as he loved flying, this freedom, this excited rush trough his veins, in this short moment the screams followed him out of his nightmares. And he could hear him again. And again.

Shout his name.

 

He was soaring higher and higher trying to lose himself.

Once he was at ease again and satisfied he searched for his godly power to open a gate to heaven.

When he was still unused to this new form he was told opening a gate was too difficult. He shouldn’t even try.

This had been a good point to set things clear.

* * *

 Shortly he mused if he should have informed Molly about his visit but her death seemed boring in comparison to his so he always strived to bring some diversity and excitement in it.

Plus it was more amusing for him to see her ushering her Glee fan club out of the house.

He nicely smiled at all of Molly´s friends while she consoled them with next week. Her next step was to rush over to her Glee posters to take them down as if Sherlock hadn’t seen them already.

He was actually tempted to tell her they fitted quite nicely in her living room but he was an angel now and they were apparently supposed to be “good”.

“Tea?” he asked instead, ignoring politely how Molly fought with the duct tape.

“What? Oh yeah of course, there should be some left.” Finally she had stuffed all her posters in a cabinet. She brushed her hands over her pants; licked her lips and then seemed collected enough to shoot Sherlock a disapproving glare.

“I told you to inform me before you come over!”

He pretended he couldn´t hear her while he walked in the kitchen, he knew she couldn´t be mad at him for too long. He came back with two cups of tea and took his usual chair.

And smirked at her. Being good was overrated.

“How was the rerun of the best episodes?”

“Oh shut up you! I like my afterlife quite as it is. And if certain angels could announce themselves before they fly into my house you could even say it´s heavenly!”

Sherlock pressed his lips together. For him heaven was clearly overrated. If this was really a place for good people than they had deserved better, especially people like Molly.

Here she just sat around and let herself flood in an earth resembling sphere filled with happy making vapours.

“Oh come on Sherlock it really is nice here," she said knowing his thoughts. “Every Thursday and Sunday I can eat with my mum and I met my grandpa and the people are really friendly here!” She pauses. “How could I have asked for more?” Her voice was firm but her gaze was unfocused.

Sherlock starred at her and could only think of how he had never actually questioned how she would live a long and happy life with someone who fitted to her.

Until a drunk driver had disagreed and she became a soul among millions.

When he first saw her in heaven a realisation had hit him.

Suddenly the lives of everyone seemed so short and weak. Any moment they could be over and he didn’t know if he was ready to meet the ghosts of his past. Meet him.

“You have a case for me?” Sherlock said cutting of his train of thought.

“What? I didn´t tell you... a never mind.” She tried to smile at him but her eyes were unsure and searching. She got up and moved to her desk.

“Wait a second. Gosh you would think being dead meant to have nothing better to do then to tidy up.” Shaking her head she turned back and gave him her notes after she found them, then stood a moment unsure in the room before she sat down, her eyes still fixed on Sherlock.

“So I wanted to talk to you about Mister Walker’s death. Poor guy died just a week ago and is really nice, couldn’t stop talking about his dog... “

He slightly coughed.

“Well, he had a heart attack and thinks it wasn’t all natural.”

Sherlock scanned through the neatly written papers (with little kittens in the corners) and then asked “What shoes did he wear?”

“Wha..? I don’t know maybe sneakers...”

“Perfect this looks interesting.”

Before Molly could answer a shrill sound interrupted her. Sherlock sharply turned his head and jumped excitedly out of his chair.

“Perfect! They must have finally used my bomb. Ahh Icarus, a truly thrilling project.”

His eyes were gleaming while he touched the orb. Molly looked rather distastefully at the thing that had just appeared in her home.

The report was short. Sherlock´s bomb had successfully broken off the demon ceremony in the church of Chuck. Which demons had died in the fire was still open for investigation but there were survivors.

“Dammit! I knew I should have made the bomb bigger.”

“Next time you will get them all I´m sure.” Molly laid her hand on Sherlock´s arm and squeezed. “Like my mum likes to say ‘There is always a next time’”

She smiled up to Sherlock and he could feel himself relaxe. He had killed important demons, the ones he hadn’t got couldn’t be that relevant. They wouldn’t be a problem.

And he could always get them next time.

A second shrill sound alerted him of another message.

“Looks like I will get this chance earlier than anticipated. My new mission seems to be an old lady who has a spirit in her. Risk level 5, this should be interesting.”

* * *

“Risk level 5. That means this old trout will have more angels on her ass than you can count.”

The other demon handler was quick to interrupt much to John’s amusement.

“Well of course not that many! We would never send you in if it were like that... especially not alone...”

While he fumbled with words his colleague took over again. Not without rolling his eyes.

“There will probably be a team with four to five angels. Your job is it to get this Misses first and rip out that spirit.” He made the fitting gestures. ”And bring it unscathed to us, understood?”

Demon number two checked his watch and told him to get his documents from Wendy the secretary while he already ringed the next demon in and looked angry at his co-worker. A real multitasker.

John couldn’t care less. Finally he got his own mission and if he was quick enough it would stay a solo one.

Chuckling he pushed past the other demons in the labour bureau which resembled more and more a battlefield to get his documents as fast as possible.

High ranking demons should be killed more often.


	5. Chapter 5

After all this time, no matter what had happened in his life his morning routine hadn’t changed. Rising early in the morning, getting dressed, making his bed, military stile of course and not speaking to anyone until he had his tea.

This morning was the same unless were it wasn’t. He had stood at the window for over five minutes now without taking a sip from his rapidly cooling tea.

He gazed at the buzzing street below him and tried to push the surrealism of being back in London out of his mind. He didn’t even know how long ago his last visit was.

He gulped down some of his tea and grimaced. He decided watching the Londoner buzz was enough to wake him up and went to pour the cold tea down the sink. While he watched the brown fluid swirling down the drain he decided not to think about how wrong and somewhat disappointing the city felt. The bustling noises of London weren’t comforting anymore and the rush of the city live only left him feeling alone.

On top of all that, the flat the office had given him was lousy. There was mould in the tiny bathroom and almost all furniture made worrying noises whenever he used them.

He cracked his spine, tugged at that damn glamour watch and decided to look one last time over his plan.

* * *

Yesterday afternoon he had arrived at the house of Miss Davies only to see an angel fight with car keys to stop a car from blaring while another one introduced himself politely to her as new neighbours.

Of course, he had cursed, just his luck, but at least they both had been too distracted to notice him in his unsuspicious sweater.

Shortly he had mused if he should take actions now or wait. He had decided for the latter and had begrudgingly sat down at a coffee shop across the street to gather more information.

It quickly became interesting to watch angels and study them outside of the battlefield. Really, only some century old pigeons with no basic understanding of modern humanity could get the idea of owning a car in London. And one as pretentious as this one. Big and black and looking freshly waxed John couldn’t help but think of Mycroft. At this he had laughed quietly and thought shortly about visiting some of his old “friends”. A sharp smile had tugged at his lips when he had imaged himself on Mycroft’s door mat.

But that wasn’t worth his attention he had scolded himself. His mission was at stage with the angels already in position.

Shortly he had pressed himself against his chair, feeling the weapon in his waistband dig into his flesh. He had let his gaze flicker from the door to the windows and over to the passersby’s. He had tried to calculate his odds if he went in now and was done with it.

But he had forced himself to stay seated. These weren’t the good old times where he could just walk into a room with his gun and relive his military time. No, the stakes were higher, the people more dangerous and all in all it was even more serious than he had once thought it could be.

When he had seen the waitress making her way over to him, her smile bright and her ponytail bouncing up and down he had fought the impulse to check his wrist to see if his watch emitting the glamour was still there and working. He knew it was because of the lack of screaming and terrified mortals but still it always made him a bit uneasy to just rely on this tiny metal thing. Plus it let his spine tingle uncomfortably.

After he had ordered a new tea he had spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the cafe and watching every move around his targets house and her new friendly neighbours.

Back in his flat he hadn’t even tried to make himself dinner instead he had ordered some Indian food.

 

It still stood where he had left it, giving of a heavy food smell. He pushed it aside and ignored the stains it left on Miss Davies curriculum vitae while he looked over the building plans. Five hours later his plan still looked good and doable.

Planning like this he felt the old rush of excitement.

* * *

At half seven precisely he stood a street away from his targets house and methodically attached a bomb to the pretentious car of god’s pigeons.

When he was satisfied he brushed dust off his sweater and put his glamour back on normal. A bin man across the street seemed a bit startled at his sudden appearance but otherwise the people didn’t care. Again the dull senses of the humans around him surprised him, like really, how could they just walk through their life without ever seeing anything!

Pushing that thought aside he purposefully walked past Miss Davie´s house and ringed at her neighbour´s door, the human ones of course.

A disgruntled man in his forties opened after the third ringing. John flashed him his best smile.

“What?” Were the charming first words. He could work with that.

“Sorry to disrupt but I left my phone at home and my sister is supposed to go into labour today so it would be wonderful if I could shortly use your phone to call her?”

Without waiting for a reply he used the confused silence to push the door open and ignoring the angry “What the hell?” he pressed the man against the wall behind the door and put a syringe in his arm. The anaesthetization worked quickly and with a fearful expression the man slid to the ground before falling into unconsciousness. John turned around and slowly closed the door, then waited a moment to see if anyone had noticed.

After no kind of reaction from outside, he made his way upstairs.

“Robert was it the salesman again? I told you next time we should call the police they are getting more and more brash!” he heard from what must be the bedroom.

Robert´s wife, Sue, thirty-six, was still in bed and he jumped on her, giving her no chance to scream when he pressed her mouth shut and sedated her. Sitting like this over her unconscious body only now he could feel a dose of adrenaline rushing through him, his breath quickened and his hands wandered on their own accord to the knife hidden in his boots.

Only when he swirled it in his hand and he asked himself what beautiful thing he should do now he snapped out of it.

He scrambled off her body and ungracefully pushed himself from the bed. Standing there he panted, but not out of excitement.

This wasn’t the reason he was here. He had a mission. And he wouldn’t ruin it because he didn’t have himself under control!

He tried to take deep relaxing breaths but from deep inside his mind old images resurfaced. Beautiful images.

He had to get out of here and get back to the mission. In a hurry he left the room and went straight to the attic. Up in the stuffiness of the spider infested box room he tried to get his cool back. Only after he felt relative calm again he pressed the button that activated the bomb.

After thirty seconds where he tried to keep his mind blank the explosion was heard and he could feel the waves rushing over him that where specifically designed to mess with angels in some weird way. Lots of science talk had been part of the explanation of the bomb.

Straining his ears he could hear the commotion on the street.

Satisfied he opened the window to the roof and climbed out. Making himself small he could still see the smoke and running people.

Careful but purposeful he made his way over to Miss Davie’s house and thanked Lucifer that he didn’t have to jump from roof to roof as their houses were connected.

Not bothering with stealth anymore John simply smashed the window in and entered Miss Davie’s attic. He could hear her front door being kicked in and knew he had to hurry. The angels were not bothering with niceties. He could only hope the bomb had done some effect and some of the wings were checking on their car and the cause of the explosion.

His targets scream alerted him of her whereabouts and he was out of the attic in a rush.

The house was full of pictures of plants in all forms he noticed absently, they were even lining the staircase where at the moment an angel was making his way up. While the blond Adonis tried to run up the last steps, John used the railing to prop himself up and kick him in the chest. While the angel was making his way down wildly thrashing his wings he used the momentum to follow and land on top of him. His tail grasped his boot knife for him and he took it to plunge it deep inside the angel’s chest.

That was also when something slit his back open. Hissing he turned and saw a shaking boy in his teens standing in a door way with a crossbow. His face was pale but nevertheless he tried to reach for a dagger at his side.

With the still twitching body underneath him he shortly assessed the damage on his back but the pain already lessened and it was clear the human had only graced his skin. His mobility shouldn’t be restricted.

With this in mind he ignored the pain when he reached for a smoke grenade on his belt. The boy´s eyes got wide when it flew past him and John used the moment to take the two steps over to him and knock his head against the door frame. People should really learn to not get distracted this easily.

From his life in hell accustomed to smoke, because yes, sometimes it is this cliché, he entered the room now quickly filling with smoke. On the left was a coughing angel, no imminent threat and in the middle of the room a crying Miss Davie´s. He was ready to grab her when the movement of a third person stopped him.

He stood behind her unfazed by the smoke and it felt like all air was leaving his body.

His brain screamed at him to do something, breath, move,  _fight_ , anything! But he couldn’t.

“John.”


	6. Chapter 6

This shouldn’t be! This wasn’t possible. Sirens were blaring in his mind palace, he couldn’t think and sirens were blaring quiet literary outside. Think. He needed to think!

A trick. It was a trick. It had to be.

Because the real and wonderful John was still out there living a save and undisturbed live.

His body started to tense, all his muscles seemed to shake at once and his heart beat thundered in his ears. How could they dare to stain John´s remembrance like this? He lunged forward, his mind only set on hurt, destroy, _kill_.

He forgot the sobbing Miss Davie on the floor, forgot the smoke that was filling his lungs and making his eyes water and most of all he forgot that this demon had taken out his whole unit in less than five minutes. But his mind had already sorted out the weak spots so why should he care?

When their bodies crashed together it took the creature of hell by surprise and Sherlock used his chance to hit him over and over again when he was towering over him. Because the face was definitely a weak spot. This face. A sob escaped his lips when ~~John´s~~ NOT John´s nose broke under his hands.

The crack rang through his head like a canon shoot, overpowering his own racing heart and he could only stare at the blood tripling down the chin, feeling the warm fluid on his knuckles.

This time he didn’t react fast enough when the demon threw him of him. The inhuman strength catapulted him against a sofa and he let out a shout as his left wing hit the corner of the coffee table.

The demon snarled at him, crouched low at the floor, ready to lounge. But he didn’t. Both of them didn’t do anything then stare at each other and pant, Sherlock more painfully. The smoke was filling his lung.

He didn’t know what to do. This shouldn’t be. No one was supposed to look like the incarnation of everything good and be the farthest away from it.

“John”, escaped his lips again in a helpless whimper.

“Sherlock you bloody idiot!” cried the demon and now he really was about to lunge but a blast send him in the nearest wall.

His head whipped almost painfully around; the angel who had gone to the ground as soon as he had inhaled the first lung of smoke was coughing but standing again with a shock wave gun in his hand.

But Sherlock was a _bloody idiot_.

While ~~the demon~~ was trying to get up again and the angel was reloading his gun, an unflinching look on his face, Sherlock took an abounded knife. He shortly felt the weight in his palm then he threw it.

When it hit home, sinking deep inside the angel´s shoulder everyone’s gaze was on it. The demons, Sherlock´s and Miss Davie´s who had started screaming again.

The angel, Charlie or something, was staggering, his mouth in a slight O shape and the gun fell out of his hand.

The logical part of his brain used the moment as grey fabric was turned even darker to re-emerge and tell him how stupid he had acted. ~~For a demon?~~

Said ~~demon~~ was now up and moving, with a slight limp and Sherlock readied himself for whatever might come but he had miscalculated.

Before he could do anything the monster had already whipped out a new knife to drive it into Miss Davie´s side. From the carpet the angel groaned in horror.

She screamed one last time, her eyes too big before a glowing started to fill the room. It was coming from her and she hit the carpet with a dull thud. Sherlock pushed himself up and went forward, ignoring the pain in his wing as he moved. He grabbed the demon´s hand to tear it away but it was too strong. ~~John always had been strong~~

It turned to him hissing and baring his teeth with his best friend´s face.

They were so close to each other, face to face and Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to flinch away. It had been so long since he had last seen it. His memories didn’t do it justice. And most of all they didn’t do his eyes justice, a constantly changing grey. Now they seemed darker than ever and he searched in them. Searched for an explanation, an answer. Could this really be his John? “Shouldn’t you telling me something as pathetic as ‘No don’t do it’?” His voice was hard, his nostrils flared and in a too big, too dark room Mycroft told him looking down at him behind his desk ‘Sherlock he is angry. Angry at you.’ And his expression told him that these were things he was supposed to know. But he didn’t even know what John ~~or not John~~ was talking about.

“How? Please.”

He twisted his hand out of Sherlock’s grip too fast and his look was as crazy as Moriarty´s had been. He pushed him hard to the ground, his tail wiping back and force behind him high in the air.

“Don´t you dare to say that to my face!” he screamed and he raised his clenched fist like he wanted to hit, to hurt. But then he whipped around and placed his hand on the still glowing corpse. He dug it into the body and as he tore the hand out again the room fell in almost instant darkness.

He turned; quickly and Sherlock had to think of copper in his mouth, a throbbing cheek, a weight on his back and a struggling. _I was a soldier. I killed people._

John stared at him shortly and let out a shaking breath. Then he was out of the door, leaving only smoke behind.

Sherlock struggled to get up, but his wing hurt so much. The words oversensitive shot through his brain ~~pain~~.

_`So you really want to let him get away again?’_ Molly looked at him over her lab table, her eyes full of compassion and sadness. _`You just turn and leave?’_

His fingers dug into the carpet.

“You made a big mistake”, the angel said panting, still laying where he had fallen and his hand was moving flimsily over the heft of the blade.

All of Sherlock´s muscles strained, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then he pushed himself up.

 

The street was full of people, they were shouting, shouting right in his face asking about something, placing their hands on his chest. They wore these silly hats, they must be police. But they were only in the way; he had to get to John. He couldn’t let him down again. He wouldn’t turn and leave.

Franticly he searched for blond hair, a head with horns. His eyes darted over everything and everyone almost too quick for him to process but John was gone.


End file.
